


Shadows

by lifeisyetfair



Category: Don Carlos - Friedrich Schiller
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-28
Updated: 2016-07-28
Packaged: 2018-07-27 07:45:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7609675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lifeisyetfair/pseuds/lifeisyetfair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before Posa goes to Carlos in the dungeon and after Eboli confesses all, a brief encounter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shadows

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PlinytheYounger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlinytheYounger/gifts).



               There is so little time before they must go—she to a convent, and he to death. And Rodrigo is not sure why they are spending it with each other, except that the animal life in both of them refuses to accept what must come. And to do this with anyone else would pile betrayal on betrayal.

               Eboli’s jaw is set. She lies beside him, naked and regal. He could almost imagine she is Elisabeth, but the reality of the woman next to him keeps intruding, her pride, her treason, her courage. Not two hours ago, he held a knife to her throat and she told him to go ahead. And in that moment this shallow, artificial woman who had clung to her artificial virtue and then thrown it away became someone more than an enemy.

               So here they lie, rutting in the darkness, the shadows of their brighter, purer selves. Carlos would never have threatened to kill Eboli, Carlos would never have hidden his plans from his friend the way Rodrigo did.

               Sometimes he wishes he was Carlos. At the moment, for example, when Elisabeth, having exposed him to himself as as scheming and prideful as Eboli, said that she would never respect a man again. Said, in not so many words, that she respected him. Even loved him.

               If they ever said it in so many words, they would betray Carlos utterly.

               Eboli’s face softens into ecstasy. Is she imagining herself with Carlos, her love returned? Is she imagining herself Elisabeth, virtuous and beloved?

               Carlos and Elisabeth have their innocence. He and Eboli have something else, the fruit of the tree, the fruit of their treasons.

               There is not much time. Neither of them will ever see Elisabeth again, but if he hurries, he might—finally—reveal all to Carlos, the repayment of their childhood debt, and they might for a moment meet as equals. (He had thought himself the protector. How he had deceived himself.)

               He closes his eyes. But he is not Carlos, and these are not Elisabeth’s arms. He pulls away. They cannot be other than what they are. And besides, there is so little time.

              

**Author's Note:**

> This work was written for PlinytheYounger as a reward for donation last year to a fundraiser for the refugee crisis in Europe. Finally written!


End file.
